


Merry-Go-Round

by quartzguts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Love/Hate, M/M, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Loop, not sure how to tag it so more detailed warnings inside, some humor mostly angst, uhhh practically assisted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 05:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21386869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: "Oh, dear," Ardyn drawls. "I suppose we’re taking another turn on the merry-go-round, then?""Eat shit," Noct says as the world around them fades to white. He can almost hear Bahamut's disappointed sigh echoing in the distance.Bahamut makes our brave hero and dastardly villain do it over until they get it right. They get tired of it.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 25
Kudos: 500





	Merry-Go-Round

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: mental health issues (including panic attacks, suicidal thoughts/ideation) and references to past (canon and noncanon) character death/injury.
> 
> detailed warning for assisted suicide (?): there's a scene in which a character basically asks another character to kill them, for the purpose of resetting a time loop. no permanent death comes of this, but i still wanted to warn for it.

Noct's face twists in disgust as he catches sight of Ardyn at Galdin Quay. He doesn't even bother pretending to be surprised when he approaches them. Noct's seen this little act often enough that he _ knows _Ardyn is tired of it too; he's barely making an effort to be his usual dramatic perky self.

He's in the movement of turning around to throw that _ stupid _ coin directly at Noct's face for the _ tenth time _when Noct gets tired of the farce and summons a sword from his Armiger, hurling it directly into Ardyn's chest. It hits its target hard, and blood gets all over the ridiculous outfit that Ardyn refuses to ever change, no matter how many times they've done this.

There's about five seconds of shocked silence from his friends before Ignis finds his voice and screams "_Noct_!"

"Oh, dear," Ardyn drawls. "I suppose we’re taking another turn on the merry-go-round, then?"

"Eat shit," Noct says as the world around them fades to white. He can almost hear Bahamut's disappointed sigh echoing in the distance.

+++

Sometimes Noct wakes up in bed in his apartment, slightly cold from the winter chill but otherwise comfortable with plenty of time to orient himself. Sometimes he’s at school, which is annoying because it means he’ll have to wait years before he can try again. Sometimes - and these are always the worst - he’s getting ready to go see his father for the last time ever. One time he’d woken up in the middle of training with Gladio, and had lost his footing. He would have lost his head, too, if Gladio hadn’t managed to pull back his sword right before it made contact with Noct’s neck. This time he’s sitting in on a council meeting.

Noct blinks awake quickly. His dad is at his side, seated at the head of the table. The council members are talking about a trade agreement with Accordo; Noct remembers this meeting. It’s a few months before Niflheim will propose the peace treaty. A few months before he’ll lose everything all over again.

Noct slams his hands down on the table, says “fuck this,” and angrily stomps out of the room, ignoring the burst of chatter following behind him.

Immediately Ignis tries to catch up with him and ask him (in his own very polite and formal way) just what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but Noct is one step ahead of him. He’s gotten very good at warping, having had what feels like an eternity to practice it, and he summons a dagger to throw _ hard _down the hall. He reaches a window, which he promptly jumps out of.

He lets himself fall for a few seconds, feeling gloriously free, before he summons the magic again and proceeds to warp through the air all the way back to his apartment. He throws his dagger so hard against the glass door on the balcony that it shatters - even military grade bullet proof glass was weak against ancient magical weapons - and stalks into his apartment. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and glares at it like his gaze will turn it into whiskey, or vodka, or anything that will get him drunk. When no such thing happens he chugs it, throws the empty bottle against the wall, and goes to his room. He slams the door shut with so much force the walls shake.

He’s breathing hard, both furious and hopeless at the prospect of having to do everything all over again. For the _ 37th time. _ Even worse, he knows it won’t happen the way it did last time. The thought cuts deep into his soul.

He throws himself down on his bed, the one he hasn't laid in for over ten years, and screams into the pillow.

A knock comes at the front door twenty minutes later.

Noct doesn’t bother getting up. Ignis lets himself into the apartment like always. He can hear him talking with someone; after a few moments, he recognizes the extra voices as Clarus and his dad. He lets out a dry sob, realizing it’s been so long since he heard his dad’s voice he’d forgotten what it sounded like.

He hears footsteps approaching his bedroom. He summons the dagger again, warps to the door, locks it, and warps back to his bed.

Ignis tries the handle. Noct can hear his frustrated scoff when he realizes it’s locked. “Highness. Please come out of your room.”

Noct buries his face in the pillow. He pictures Ignis’s face, sometimes scarred, sometimes burned, sometimes lifeless as Noct cradles him against his chest and begs gods that do not care to bring him back. He sobs again, and this time tears accompany it.

Ignis knocks again, louder this time. “Highness, come out of your room this instant. I don’t know what has possessed you to behave this way, but - are you _ crying_?"

The question is tinged with horror. At this point in time, Ignis would not be used to hearing Noct crying. As a teenager, he’d convinced himself that it was not a princely thing to do; he never let tears fall over anything emotional, whether it was the overwhelming responsibilities of his position or the aching grief in his heart at seeing his father waste away. Currently, Ignis has not seen him cry over anything other than chronic pain since he was a child, so it’s fitting that his next question is “are you in pain?”

His dad’s voice is coming closer now, still far enough away that it’s muffled into incoherency by the door. Noct shakes harder as he hears his dad shuffle forward.

“Noctis?” Regis says, and Noct lets out a pained cry.

That alarms them further. Clarus is saying something to his dad, and Ignis is muttering under his breath. Noct hears two sets of footsteps move away from the door, while one set comes closer.

“Noctis, son, please open the door,” Regis says. “_Please_. I need to know you’re okay.”

The sheer desperation in his dad’s voice has Noct getting up without thinking and unlocking the door.

The second he sees his dad’s face, he breaks down again and throws his arms around him in what he’s sure is the tightest hug he’s ever given anyone, except maybe Ardyn. Regis makes a surprised noise and brings his arms around Noct, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Noct,” Ignis says, clearly relieved. “Does your back hurt? Should I get your medication?”

Noct shakes his head. He’s hiccuping loudly between each sob. The lack of air makes it impossible to breathe.

He feels the shaking in his body grow more intense, and fear rises in his mind like a tidal wave. His heart speeds up. He suddenly needs space, and practically shoves his dad back so he can have it. He crashes against the wall next to his bedroom door and sinks to the ground, his breaths coming in short gasps.

“He’s having a panic attack,” Ignis says, voice calm enough that it almost hides his _ own _panic.

Regis kneels on the floor despite the obvious pain it brings to his bad leg. “Son, look at me. I need you to breathe with me, alright? Look at my face and breathe with me.”

Noct tries his best. He focuses on matching his breaths with his father's, and slowly the panic subsides, leaving him feeling empty and numb. He vaguely recognizes that Ignis is on the phone with somebody. He makes an effort to listen in, ignoring the gentle questions his dad is asking him. It doesn't take long for him to figure out that Ignis is talking to Prompto.

“Has anything happened with Noct lately?” Ignis is asking. “You’re his best friend, I imagine you must know _ something _ -”

Noct laughs. The sound is hoarse from how sore and dry his throat is. He wants another bottle of water. “Prom doesn’t know anything, Iggy.” He uses the nicknames because it’s been a long time since he's had a chance to, and he feels like indulging in this sick nostalgia trip for just a little while longer.

Ignis pauses and looks back to him, worry evident on his face. He says a quick goodbye to Prompto and hangs up the phone. “Noct, what’s wrong?”

Noct laughs again. “Everything.”

+++

Noct kneels on the ground, his body aching and tired. This is the seventeenth cycle. He hasn’t gotten this far on every try, so it’s only the ninth time he’s been here specifically. In front of him is the Crystal, and if he touches it he’ll be dragged into its icy hold for ten years as Bahamut prepares him to kill Ardyn and end all of this.

Except he doesn’t want to.

“What are you waiting for?” Ardyn asks. He’s tapping his boot against the metal floor. The sound should be grating, but Noct can’t find it in himself to feel annoyed.

“They’re all dead,” he says. “If I fail again, I can see them. Maybe I'll even be able to protect them next time.”

Ardyn hisses. Noct knows his face is twisting into something monstrous even without turning to check. “No. I refuse to be strung along like a puppet any longer. Get in the Crystal or I will pick you up and toss you in myself.”

Noct picks at the skin around his thumb. It starts to bleed. He knows Ardyn’s threat is empty, because even if the Crystal takes him he can always refuse to fight once he gets back. Still, he wants to go back to the days when Insomnia stood tall and everyone he loved was alive _ now_. He doesn't want to wait.

He decides to try something new. “If you had the chance to see Aera again, wouldn’t you take it?”

The hissing intensifies. “What did you say?”

“Luna saw her in a vision this time around. She told me about you two. If you could see her again, wouldn’t you do it?”

Ardyn doesn’t answer. His sword strikes through Noct’s heart a few moments later, and Noct smiles while Bahamut screams in frustration.

+++

“Son -” Regis starts, but Noct cuts him off as an idea comes to him.

“Hey, Dad, is there any way I can contact the Chancellor of Niflheim?” he asks, leftover panic making him giddy and reckless. Fuck Bahamut, he’s not playing along like a good little puppet _ this _time. “I need to talk to him.”

“Imperial Chancellor Izunia?” Regis asks, brows knit. “Why would you -”

“I just do. It’s important. Can I call him or something? The bastard probably doesn’t have a cellphone, but he’s gotta have a landline, right?”

Regis and Ignis look completely at a loss for what to say. Clarus steps in. “Your Highness, I think it would be best for you to sit down and rest for a moment.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Noct snaps, his irritation growing. “Fine, fuck it. I’ll just go to Niflheim or something. Or throw myself in front of a bus. That asshole’s probably keeping tabs on me anyway, bet he’d be there in a second to laugh at me.”

At the half serious threat of self inflicted violence, everyone’s expressions shift from worry to something much more serious. Noct wants to laugh again at the hysteria of it all, but all he can manage is a hiccup as fresh tears leak from his eyes. Ignis kneels in front of him, next to his dad, and holds out a tentative hand.

“Noct,” he says, voice practiced and patient, “why don’t we go sit on the couch for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Noct says. He grabs Ignis’s hand far tighter than is necessary.

They sit on the couch. His dad brings him a water bottle and sits by his side at a polite distance. Noct drains the bottle eagerly. Clarus makes another phone call. In the middle of it, there’s a knock on the door, and Clarus answers it.

Gladio walks into the room and immediately frowns at what he sees. “What happened?”

“We don’t know,” Clarus answers. Gladio gives his dad a curt nod before striding over to Noct.

Noct hangs his head down and stares hard at the tile floor, trying to blink back tears. Gladio shoves the coffee table away and crouches in front of Noct.

“Hey, Noct,” he says, “you alright?”

This time, Noct nods.

“Are you hurt? Injured? Poisoned?”

He shakes his head.

“Your back acting up?”

He shakes his head again, frustrated at having to answer the same question twice. Everything feels like it’s taking far too long, and he’s getting antsy. He wants to talk to Ardyn, now.

“Dad, I really need to talk to Ardyn,” he says, throwing back his water and drinking it so quickly he starts coughing.

“Who the hell is Ardyn?” Gladio asks. Clarus gives him a quick glare for cursing in front of the King, then goes back to his phone call.

“He’s the Chancellor of Niflheim,” Regis says. He places a hand on Noct’s shoulder. “Son, why do you need to talk to _ him_? You’ve never even met before.”

The invisible _ have you? _hangs heavily on the end of his dad’s words. Noct breathes deeply again, and finds that the motion is easier. He’s starting to calm down, which means he can recognize just how badly he’s fucked this up. If he doesn’t find a plausible explanation now, he’ll just worry everyone and end up with a guard detail following his every move for the next week.

He should be trying to think of a convincing lie, but his mind is too occupied with how much he wants _ Ardyn _ right now. Despite everything the man’s done, they’re in this shitshow together. At first they'd tried to keep hating each other, but the longer this nonsense went on the harder it became to force themselves to fulfill their respective destinies. Noct doesn’t _ want _to kill Ardyn anymore. He mostly just wants to have a break.

Well. He sort of got a break after Altissia, the last time. And that _ was _Ardyn’s doing. It was because of Ardyn that he got to experience real comfort after years of perpetual grieving.

Noct wants that comfort again. He caps the bottle and drops it on the ground. “We’ve met. Quite a few times, actually. I need to talk to him, it’s important.”

“You’ve met the Imperial Chancellor?” Clarus asks, voice sharp. “When, and where?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Noct stands up so quickly he gets dizzy. He_ still _ feels dehydrated, even after drinking two whole bottles of water.

“It most certainly does,” his dad says, getting up to grab Noct’s wrist and keep him from warping away. Ignis stands and places a firm hand on his shoulder. Noct growls when he realizes Gladio is up, too, in a stance that implies he’s ready to tackle Noct to the ground if he has to. “You’re panicking, son. Try to relax for a moment.”

Noct groans and runs shaky hands through his hair. “You don’t understand.”

“Try to explain, then,” his dad says, and he sounds so, _ so _ earnest and understanding, and suddenly Noct remembers that his dad _ knew _ about the prophecy, and he might just know who the Accursed really is, and what Noct’s destiny was meant to be. He might believe him. Noct says _ fuck it _ one last time.

“You know the stupid prophecy that says I’m the King of Light and I have some grand destiny to fulfill?” he snaps. “Well, I’ve fucked that up about _ thirty-fucking-seven _ times now, and every time I screw up Bahamut sends me back in time _ ten godsdamned years _ to redo _ everything_.”

His dad looks too shocked to speak, like he’s heard Noct’s words but can’t process them. Noct doesn’t even want to look at the others. He knows they’re wearing the same expression. “Noctis, what -”

“Oh, and Ardyn’s the Accursed,” Noct says flippantly, looking his dad straight in the eyes. “So I figure I should talk to him this time around and see if he’s down to help me kill the gods.”

+++

This is their twenty third go on the merry-go-round, and Noct is no longer getting nauseous. Literally. He’s started rushing through everything. It’s becoming tiring, having to go from point A to point B over and over again, doing all this mundane shit when he _ knows _ the only thing he _ needs _to do is sleep for ten years and then kill Ardyn. That’s why, as they’d prepared to drive to the Disc of Cauthess, Noct had jumped into the driver’s seat of the Regalia without any preamble at all.

Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio have been screaming at him to pull over for ten minutes now, which seems like an overreaction. Sure, he’s doing something like twenty miles over the speed limit, and he and Ardyn are weaving through traffic to pass just about everyone on the road, but it’s not like they’re going to crash. They leave at the same time on the same day every time they do this, so Noct already knows where all the cars they need to avoid are. He also knows the exact speed and angle the Regalia needs to be at to avoid flipping over when they turn.

“Relax,” he says to Prompto, who’s sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat, holding onto his seat for dear life, “hold on tight for a bit.”

He hits a particularly hard turn. Everyone screams. Noct can imagine Ardyn in his own car up ahead, laughing at the sound of Noct’s friends freaking out over nothing.

He wonders if he should go ahead and ride with Ardyn next time, just for the hell of it.

+++

A medical team arrives at Noct’s apartment not long after. Noct feels relieved at having gotten it all off his chest, but everyone else is looking at him like they think he’s gone crazy. Noct tells the nurses the truth, too, just because he feels like it. Now that it’s out there, he can’t stop talking about the cruel fate he’s been given; it feels nice, not to have to pretend. It feels nice to acknowledge that he isn’t okay, that something is deeply, horribly wrong.

Once the nurses do all the tests they can without moving Noct to a hospital, one of them goes up to his dad and shows him her clipboard. “There’s nothing wrong with His Highness that we can find, Your Majesty.”

His dad looks at the results worriedly. “Is there any chance the issue could be mental rather than physical?”

“It appears that is the most likely explanation for His Highness’s behavior, Your Majesty.”

Noct laughs. “Fuck _ all _ of this. I’m going to Niflheim.”

He warps out of the way before Gladio can grab him, darting to the window. He’s already standing on top of the balcony railing by the time Gladio throws heavy arms around him and drags him back to the ground.

“Damnit, kid, what’s gotten into you?” he growls against Noct’s ear. Noct elbows him in the stomach hard, feeling sort of guilty but mostly just pissed. It feels good to let himself get angry. It’s a nice distraction from the aching in his heart.

Every time he blinks a new memory comes to life. He sees Luna’s broken body, Ignis’s scarred face, his dad’s corpse strung up above his throne, limp and dripping blood. He sees daemons and fire and Insomnia abandoned and destroyed. He’s been suffering from night terrors and sleep paralysis the past few cycles; it seems now the horrors are starting to bleed into waking hours. All he has to do is close his eyes and he sees them. The idea of jumping from the balcony without warping to safety is tempting, but Noct knows it won’t solve anything.

Ignis runs out to join them. “Noct, _ please _calm down.”

“Just let me fucking talk to Ardyn!” Noct yells. “He’ll confirm what I’m saying.”

Regis watches as his son is dragged back into the room by his shield and his advisor, kicking and screaming. He sighs heavily. “Very well. Clarus, can we get a secure line to the Chancellor?”

“Regis,” Clarus says haltingly, “His Highness is not in his right mind. We cannot risk a diplomatic incident over this.”

“I have met the Chancellor on a few occasions,” Regis says. “He did not seem like such a humorless man that he would take offense to a simple phone call. And.” Regis looks at Noct for this part. A brief moment of understanding passes between them. “I want to believe in my son.”

Noct sighs, and relaxes in Gladio’s hold. “Finally.”

Clarus makes another call, and thirty minutes later Cor comes in to hand a cell phone to Noct. They all immediately regret letting him talk to Ardyn when he cuts off the Chancellor’s chipper greeting of “_why, if it isn’t the fetching crown prince of Lucis! To what do I owe this pleasure -_” with a “shut the fuck up you dick, get over here right now I need to talk to you in person.”

Regis tries to take the phone back to smooth over the situation, but pauses when Ardyn laughs. It’s loud and grating through the speaker, which is on so everyone can listen in, because naturally Noct can’t expect any privacy, he’s _ clearly _ delusional.

“_Now, what could possibly be so important that we must discuss it in person?_” Ardyn says. His voice is silky smooth. It makes Noct want to punch him. Or maybe kiss him. He’s undecided.

“We’re gonna fucking _ kill _Bahamut, and the rest of the Astrals, too, except maybe Shiva,” Noct says. “Ramuh, too. He’s chill.”

There’s a pause. Then - “_I shall meet you in Insomnia in a few minutes. Are you currently at your apartment or the Citadel?_”

“My apartment,” Noct says, and hangs up the phone.

He turns proudly to the group of confused faces surrounding him. “See? I told you I wasn’t fucking lying.”

“Son, stop cursing,” Regis mutters half heartedly. “How does the Chancellor expect to get here in only a few minutes?”

“I don’t know, he’ll probably just use his magic daemon powers to teleport here or something.”

"Noct, what the shit," Gladio says helplessly.

Noct plops himself down on the couch and waits. His dad, Clarus, and Cor sit at the kitchen table. Noct resolutely ignores the impromptu council meeting now going on in his kitchen, and refuses the anxiety medication a nurse offers him with a polite "no thank you." The medical team takes their leave and Noct is left alone in the living room with Ignis and Gladio.

"Noctis Lucis Caelum, _ what is going on_?" Ignis asks him.

"The Chancellor must've gotten to him, somehow," Gladio says. "I've heard things about that guy. _ Crap._"

Noct keeps his head down. Now that the anger is fading and Ardyn is on his way, he feels like crying again. Gladio and Ignis keep trying to talk to him; in a wild looney tunes twist, Ignis sounds frustrated, and Gladio is gentle. Noct can’t imagine what they’re thinking, how scared they must be for him. It's both a relief and a curse to hear their voices.

He can’t bring himself to respond or look at their faces. He knows what he’ll see: idealistic young men, not yet the world weary soldiers he knows they’ll grow up to be.

His dad, Clarus, and Cor have just come back into the living room when the shadows in the corner of the room erupt, shivering as Ardyn steps out of them. His face eases back into its more human appearance swiftly, but Noct knows everyone saw the black blood dripping from his eyes and mouth.

Ardyn smiles pleasantly. A wave of relief overtakes Noctis. He's throwing himself at Ardyn before he realizes.

"Now, my dear Noct, whatever did you mean by 'we’re going to kill Baha'-" Noct cuts him off with a firm kiss, almost bruising in its roughness. Ardyn doesn't seem surprised. He rests his hands on Noct's shoulders and kisses him back sweetly. Noct growls and bites his bottom lip hard, cursing vampire movies for making it look like it was easy to bite someone hard enough to bleed.

"How charming," Ardyn says as Noct pulls away. His voice is gentler than usual. It sounds like an apology - Noct doesn’t want it. "Now, back to business."

"Noct, what the _ shit_," Gladio yells.

"I am not comfortable with this anymore," Regis says icily. "Chancellor, kindly unhand my son at once."

Ardyn makes a show of holding his hands up. Noct keeps him from backing away by snatching his scarf and holding tight. "I would gladly step away, but it appears your son has other plans, Your Highness."

Gladio grabs Noct by the shirt and yanks him back. Ardyn's scarf unfolds and comes with them, and then Noct is clutching the scarf while Gladio clutches him like he's protecting something precious. Noct almost screams. He's going to die for the prophecy anyway; there's no point in trying to keep him safe _ now_. Especially not when Bahamut will just reset everything if he dies.

Ardyn regards him with a blank smirk. "Do you have any idea _ how _to kill a god, Noct?"

"Nope," Noct says. "You?"

"I might have an idea, but I’m not entirely sure it would work on the Draconian."

"Well, fuck."

"That is _ it_," Regis booms, and Noct wonders if _ he _ ever sounded so intimidating when he was playing at being king. Somehow, he doubts it. "We move to the throne room, now. I _ demand _ to know what's going on."

Ardyn smiles pleasantly and sweeps into a dramatic bow. "But of course, Your Highness."

+++

It’s round number twenty nine, and this time when Ardyn shows up to rescue them from the volcano erupting around them Noct doesn’t even react. He lets the scene play out like it’s supposed to, and climbs onto Ardyn’s airship without any complaint.

Once they’ve cured whatever minor burns they suffered from the heat, Ardyn brings them to a smallish sitting room and pours them all glasses of water. Noct downs his, then shoves Ardyn back against an uncomfortable looking chair and crawls onto his lap.

“Noct,” Gladio says. “The hell are you doing.”

“‘m tired,” Noct mutters into Ardyn’s shirt. He shifts around until he’s lying on his shoulder, and his lips are pressed right against Ardyn’s neck. He can faintly feel a pulse under his mouth. Noct sort of wants to tear it out with his teeth, and sort of wants to kiss it.

“What an intriguing turn of events. He must be _ exhausted_,” Ardyn says mockingly. Then, lower - “we must still play our parts, little King of Light, or we shall never be free of this infuriating cycle.”

Noct opts for kissing his pulse instead of biting it.

+++

They end up in the throne room, with an ample guard surrounding Ardyn and Gladio still holding Noct close to him by way of an arm around his shoulder. The tension in the room is thick. Noct knows the Crownsguard must have been briefed on Ardyn’s apparent daemonic abilities, as their weapons are already drawn and they’re all glaring at Ardyn like they want nothing more than to cut him down where he stands. Noct snorts. As if they could actually harm him. They'd only get hurt if they tried.

Regis seems to have the same thought. He dismisses the Crownsguard, allowing only Cor to stay when he protests.

“I believe this day has been a trying one for all of us,” Regis begins. He’s sitting on the throne that will one day belong to Noct; the throne which had once belonged to Ardyn. Noct’s heart twists at the sight. “I require an explanation for this. Quickly.”

Noct has already said his piece, so he looks to Ardyn, who smiles without emotion.

“I imagine you must be quite confused, Your Highness.” Ardyn is still refusing to address Regis as _ Your Majesty_, and Noct knows everyone in the room is annoyed by it but unwilling to fall for the obvious barb. “Allow me to clarify.”

He plucks the hat off his head and grins, teeth suddenly sharp and eyes glowing slightly in the sunlight of the room. “Ardyn _ Lucis Caelum_, at your service. I believe you might know me better as _ Adagium _ or _ the Accursed_. Can’t say I’m fond of either name, really. I didn’t pick them myself, after all.”

Clarus regards them with narrowed eyes from his place at Regis’s side. “That cannot be -”

“By _ Shiva_, Ardyn, just summon the Royal Arms or something,” Noct snaps, and Ardyn aquiesces. Red swords materialize around him, crystalline and sharp, the metal seemingly stained with ancient blood. The air sings with the magic of the Crystal, but as always with Ardyn’s magic there’s a dark current underlying all of it. Noct glances at his father.

Regis is frowning, his expression stony and suspicious. “I assume you haven’t come to destroy the city this time.”

“Not at all,” Ardyn says pleasantly.

Regis sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well, that’s one positive, I suppose.”

“What - _ this time_?!” Gladio says. His arm slips off Noct's shoulder. “When did - I mean - Your Majesty.”

“_Honestly_, can we not simply drop the titles?” Ardyn says. “After all, there are a total of _ three _ kings of Lucis here. It would get terribly confusing if all of us were just nameless _ Your-Majestys_.”

“You are not a King of Lucis,” Regis says.

“He kind of is,” Noct says before Ardyn takes the chance to continue to be annoying. All eyes are on him suddenly. He takes a deep breath. His eyes close involuntarily. He sees Ardyn this time, bloodied and broken beneath him. The memory is from one of the few times they’d ever gotten all the way to the end. He remembered it well; he’d broken down and cried, his tears splashing on Ardyn’s face, mixing with his black blood. Ardyn had simply watched him cry. Bahamut must have realized Noct wasn’t going to do it, because the world had flashed white and everything faded away.

“He was the first King chosen by the Crystal,” he continues. He pauses to look at Ardyn. He feels like he should get his permission before saying these things - Ardyn hates to talk about his past at the best of times, and this definitely isn’t a pleasant moment for either of them.

Ardyn just shrugs and dismisses the swords still floating around them. Noct explains everything.

When he’s done, a heavy silence shrouds the room. The Crystal has been disquieted for a while now, both disliking Ardyn’s daemonic presence and welcoming his familiar blood. Ignis has come to stand at Noct’s side. His hand is now resting on Noct’s shoulder, and Noct sighs deeply in relief. At least his precious advisor is still standing by him.

Noct looks around at the rest of them. Gladio is still glaring daggers at Ardyn, which is what Noct expected. Cor and Clarus are tight lipped, waiting for Regis to speak.

His dad takes another moment. Then - "this isn't what is written in our history."

"Ah, history," Ardyn says wistfully. Noct catches the bitterness underlying his words. "The problem with history, dear Regis, is that it is written by the _ victors_."

Regis raises a hand to keep anyone from commenting on the use of his first name. "And this… _ interference _by Bahamut you mentioned?"

"Bahamut is a fucking dick," Noct immediately says.

Regis looks like he is trying very hard to compose himself. "I would like a little more explanation than that, my son."

"Perhaps I could try," Ardyn says, stepping forward. "It seems we have yet to fulfill our destinies to Bahamut's satisfaction. He continues to send us back to try again every time we fail according to his oh-so-elusive standards."

"Ten years," Noct mutters.

"Yes, you said that before," Ignis mutters. Suddenly his eyes widen. "Wait, Noct - when the Chancellor called you a _ King of Lucis_, what exactly did he mean?”

Noct pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know what he meant. Don’t make me say it.”

They stand in silence for a while longer. To Noct’s surprise, it’s Gladio who speaks next. “You said you had a way to kill the Astrals, right?”

“Gladiolus,” Clarus warns.

“No.” Gladio’s arm comes back to rest across Noct’s shoulders. His weight is warm and comforting. Noct leans into it. Their falling out had been worse than usual these last few times around, and he’s desperate for his shield’s friendship and affection. “I’m Noct’s shield. I’m sworn to protect him from _ anything_, even the gods.” He gives Ardyn a look. “Well?”

Noct almost groans at Ardyn’s answering grin. Was the man incapable of _ not _looking slimy? “Niflheim has already felled Shiva once, and the Infernian is under my control thanks to the Scourge. We may be able to use similar methods to subdue the rest of the Astrals.”

“Ramuh is generally nicer than the others,” Noct mutters. “Shiva, too. I’ll ask Luna to send Gentiana over so we can talk to her.”

Ignis’s brows furrow. “You mean she can contact the gods for you, as a messenger?

“What? No, no, she _ is _ Shiva. We can just talk to her, she probably won’t hurt us.”

Regis places his head in his hands. “This is quite a lot to think about. I don’t know about you, son, but I’d appreciate a break.”

Noct laughs hollowly. “Me, too.”

They go to one of the Citadel’s sitting rooms. It’s a grand room with plenty of space and soft couches, meant for hosting foreign delegations. A group of maids bring in tea and snacks and everyone ignores them in favor of sitting in silence. Noct finally remembers to text Prompto and update him on the situation, which results in a loud phone call and his friend insisting that he’s coming to the Citadel right now, thank you very much.

He hangs up the call with a quiet huff. Ardyn, sitting at his side to the great disdain of literally everyone but Noct, places a more-than-friendly hand on his knee. “What lovely friends you have. So loyal.”

“Yeah,” Noct says, looking tiredly at Ignis and Gladio. Ignis is sitting on his other side, while Gladio stands at attention next to him. He still sees scars overlaying their faces, ghostly afterimages of old wounds that do not yet exist. He decides, firmly, that he will ensure those injuries never come to pass. None of it will. Luna will not die, Ignis will not be blinded, Gladio will not carry the guilt of his perceived failures. Prompto will never feel unwanted just because he’s from Niflheim. This time, he’s making sure their pain will end.

He leans against Ardyn’s shoulder. “Why do you think Bahamut hasn’t reset everything yet?”

“He likely believes we have no chance of stopping him - and truly, we don’t. But,” he leans in to whisper in Noct’s ear, “we may if we have the Oracle on our side.”

Noct snorts. “Do you have to be so dramatic?”

“It’s part of my charm,” Ardyn says with a flourishing half-bow.

Noct laughs again, but it’s from real joy this time. Ignis must notice, because he relaxes in his seat and places a calming hand on Gladio’s arm.

“You’ve got no charm,” Noct murmurs into the sleeve of Ardyn’s coat. “No charm at all.”

+++

Thirty-six. It’s just after Altissia, and Noct is utterly shocked. Luna is resting in a bed next to his, Ignis is reading the news on his phone, and Gladio and Prompto are quietly playing King’s Knight in the corner. No one is screaming. No one is dying. Noct collapses back on the bed in breathless disbelief.

Quietly, so no one notices him speaking, he whispers “this is you, right? It’s gotta be you. You’re the only one who could change this.”

“I’m afraid the Draconian isn’t happy,” the darkness whispers back. “It seems our dear Lunafreya’s death was part of his plan. I’m doing what I can to hold him back, but it’ll all fade soon.”

“Why are you giving me this?” Noct asks. Tears well up in his eyes, but he’s not sure why.

There’s nothing for a while. What follows isn’t strictly an answer. “I thought this turn of events might be acceptable, but it seems not. I fear the next time this happens it will only be more painful for you.”

“It’s fine,” Noct says. “This is enough. It’ll have to be enough.”

He marries Luna later that day. It feels less like marrying the love of his life and more like coming home after a long time of being away. He supposes that is, in essence, exactly what’s happening. Luna admits to him after the wedding that she only loves him as a friend. He finds himself relieved instead of crushed.

They have a celebration in what’s left of Altissia. Camelia commends them for successfully evacuating the citizens. He gets texts from Cindy, Cor, and Iris congratulating him and Luna. As Prompto prepares to give his speech as the best man, Noct sees a shadow watching from the edges of the party. Ardyn raises a toast to the happy couple.

The world explodes into light.

**Author's Note:**

> i've written so much in the past week or so that i think i've just... forgotten how english works


End file.
